


Get to know your lips on mine

by ThatOneGirlBehindYou



Series: Two Sugars-verse [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Established Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:32:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24743128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneGirlBehindYou/pseuds/ThatOneGirlBehindYou
Summary: Sometimes a first kiss is just that, the first word in a book that you can't wait to keep reading.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Two Sugars-verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755319
Comments: 54
Kudos: 415





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In case anyone still has any doubts, I've been in a kissing mood this week. Sorry not sorry

**1**

He hasn't had Jon in his bedroom in a while. 

It was apparently the missing piece, because there's something about Jon sitting cross-legged on his bed that finally -after two weeks of being back- flicks the switch in Gerry's mind to 'home'.

"I'd forgotten it was so soft," Jon says, running a finger almost tenderly over one of the faded constellations on Gerry's raggedy duvet.

Gran stopped insisting on getting him a new one when he was fifteen; the thing was his father's, when he lived here, and Gerry knows she's as reticent as he is to getting rid of it. Jon knows this, even though he's never asked. 

A lot of things go unsaid between them, but not unknown. 

"Does it feel weird to be back?" Jon looks at him, and Gerry’s heart skips a beat

 _Some_ things do go unknown, but it’s for the best. This is- he’s always loved Jon. This is just… different. No need to let it ruin everything; the only thing that matters is that they are together, in whichever way they are.

Gerry shrugs. “Not too much. I guess it’s better I figured it out before I could waste any more time.” Gran had said the same, when he told her he was dropping off. “I guess I always knew it wasn’t for me.”

“What will you do now?”

“I… who knows?” Gerry sighs, climbing from his chair to drop next to Jon on the bed, watching him bounce a little at the impact. “Find a job I guess. Figure things out.”

“Figure what ou-”

“Jesus, Jon, _I don’t know_ , okay?” Gerry snaps. It’s not like he’s asked himself the same thing every night since coming back. “Why are you so hell-bent on knowing, really?”

Jon’s big, dark eyes pin him to the bed. “I miss you,” he says finally, and Gerry wants to cry. 

He misses him too, misses going to his dorm every other day, holding him close during movie nights with their friends; long walks on the weekend, holding his hand. He misses things he never even _did_ with Jon, but that he very much wants to try.

“I miss you too.” Gerry says, after realizing he’s been staring at Jon in silence for at least long enough for Jon to be concerned. “I- I really thought about staying. Just to- but it didn’t feel right.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Jon shakes his head, and he moves down the bed to lay with his head on Gerry’s arm. He’s beautiful, with his crooked glasses and his chapped lips and his hooked nose. “But still-”

“Still what?” Gerry asks in a low whisper. The mood in the room is getting heavier, and he has the pained realization that it’s him and his stupid feelings doing it. Jon never signed up for this, Jon only wanted- they’re just friends. Best friends, and that’s really much more than what Gerry deserves, when it was him who came in and suddenly decided he wanted something else.

“It- I know it’s stupid. But when you left, I- I wanted to go too,” Jon confesses, his breath almost searing hot where it brushes over Gerry’s skin.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You love school, and you love your degree.”

“I know. But I also love you.”

Gerry freezes, his eyes glued to Jon’s apprehensive face that grows more and more nervous the longer he stays in silence. This is- Jon can’t possibly mean this, can he? He’s talking about another kind of love, _their_ kind of love, not-

Except Jon has grown pale and is moving to sit up; Gerry’s hand shoots up almost on its own, to rest on Jon’s side and keep him from rising.

“Say something.” The request sounds more like a plea, and Gerry hates for a moment that he knows Jon better than he knows himself, because he can recognize the fear behind the forced calm in his voice.

“I- What about Georgie?” They’ve been together for a few months already, they’re _happy_. What-

“We broke up. We- I love her.” Jon shrugs, like that explains _anything_.

“Then?”

“It wasn’t working. It- apparently it’s hard to make a relationship work, if you’re in love with your best friend.” A slight bark of laughter, slightly hysterical. “Who knew?”

Gerry swallows, but it does nothing to dissolve the knot in his throat. “You’re not really dropping off, are you?” he asks, because that sounds like the most important thing to confirm, that Jon isn’t giving up on what he wants because he thinks- what is he _thinking_?

Jon shakes his head. “No. But I- I thought this was something we should- Gerry, I’m sorry if I-”

“No! No- I-” Gerry stops to take a calming breath. This is _not_ how he is, much less with Jon, for fuck’s sake. Where are the smooth jokes and the playful ribbing? Where- “I love you too, Jon.”

“Oh.” Jon blinks. Gerry holds back the urge to ask ‘What now?’, because he knows Jon is just as lost as he is. “I- should we kiss or something?”

And isn’t _that_ interesting? Isn’t that what Gerry’s been fantasizing about for the past few months?

“I could do that, I- ok.” Gerry wriggles his arm free from under Jon’s head, and rises up on one elbow, bringing the other to rest at the other side of Jon’s head. “Can I?”

Jon nods quickly once, and Gerry almost sighs in relief when he closes his eyes because at least then he doesn’t have to see the panic in them, and wonder if he looks just as scared himself. He certainly _feels_ that way, but- but it’s alright, he can do this, he’s done this before, he’s _good_ at this. Only- it can’t be _just_ good now, because this is Jon, not some random bloke at a party or a concert; it has to be _perfect_ and-

His nose bumps against Jon’s, and their teeth clatter together when they finally make contact, and he can _feel_ Jon is not breathing. Gerry very nearly jumps out of his skin when Jon’s hand comes to rest at his back in an awkward sort of caress, and he breaks the kiss -if it can even be called that- abruptly, rising up on his elbows again.

Jon’s eyelids part, and Gerry realizes _he_ hasn’t been breathing either, as he watches Jon inhale sharply and avert his eyes. 

“Well, that sucked,” Gerry blurts out, then proceeds to wish for spontaneous combustion when Jon’s gaze shoots back to him. Way to fucking go, it’s-

“That’s a generous way to describe it,” Jon snorts, and Gerry feels the tension in his stomach crack as the absurdity of the situation rains down on him. 

“Well, excuse me for the simplicity.” He rolls his eyes. “How would _you_ describe it, then?”

Jon pretends to give it a long moment of thought, as his hand on Gerry’s back relaxes, and he brings it over his head to tangle with Gerry’s own. “If I had to go into more detail… It was real bad.”

“Masterful prose. A strikingly sharp analysis.” Gerry laughs and shakes his head, then shakes it again when he sees Jon scrunching his nose when his hair tickles it. Jon’s free hand comes to tug at a lock of his hair, and Gerry drops his head on Jon’s collarbone. “I love you. Bad kiss and all.”

“Ever the optimist.” Jon shifts under him, and Gerry feels a kiss being pressed to the crown of his head. “I love you too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

“Looks like it’s going to be at it for a while, doesn’t it?” Martin comments as he comes to stand next to Jon at the Institute’s entrance. Not the best conversation opener, but he knows Jon neither knows nor cares about social nuances. 

“Chose a great day to forget the umbrella,” Jon sighs, and he looks sideways and up at Martin. “I expect you were better prepared?”

“A bit.” Martin smiles. “I had a feeling today. Want me to call you a cab?”

“I didn’t bring much cash today.” Jon shakes his head.

“I’ll pay.”

Jon arches an eyebrow. “You don’t even know how far I live, Martin.” 

Right. Martin remembers then that Jon and Gerry have no idea he makes three times as much money as someone in his position should, because Peter is incompetent. It didn’t feel like a first date conversation, somehow.

“Right, sorry-” Martin cuts his apology short, when Jon’s fingers come to tangle with his own in the space between them. The barest hint of a smile comes to Jon’s lips, and Martin feels his heart flutter in his chest. This… _thing_ , whatever it is, is still new and confusing at times, but it’s a good thrill, the kind you get when you get to the highest point on a rollercoaster and you can’t wait to fall.

“Walk me to the bus stop?” Jon asks, a gleam of _something_ in his eyes that has Martin nodding almost immediately. 

Maybe it’s the amateur poet in Martin, but there’s something beautiful about walking in the rain with a man you’re in love with, almost as if the downpour erased everyone else, and left them walking alone under the distorted illumination of the streetlights. Jon presses almost flat against his side to stay under the cover of the umbrella, and Martin eventually settles for draping his free arm over his shoulders. It warms Martin up to his core, that they slot together like they were made to fit.

It doesn’t escape Martin’s notice that Jon is walking without the slightest hint of hurry in his step, that his eyes follow a bus that comes to a halt, waits and leaves the bus stop by the end of the street without the slightest bit of interest.

“Is that the one you should be taking?” Martin asks when the vehicle makes a turn and disappears behind a corner.

Jon shrugs. “I guess I will catch the next one.”

Martin grins.

“How’s Gerry?” He asks as they continue their way to the bus stop at a leisurely pace. “He hasn’t been texting too much lately.”

“He’s tired. He’s been taking extra shifts at the bar to save up some money for the apprenticeship.” Jon sighs. “During the day he’s either sleeping or drawing.”

“Well, it’s good that he takes it seriously.” Martin frowns then, as something clicks in his mind. “Is that why you’ve been doing overtime at the Institute?”

“And how would you know that?” Jon asks, and Martin is relieved to notice he doesn’t sound angry at all, but rather amused instead.

“Sasha talks about office stuff at home, I guess.” Martin gives his shoulders a squeeze.

“And Tim’s always had a loose mouth.” Jon rolls his eyes. “But yes, that’s why. We’re- we’re not in debt or anything,” he adds a moment later, like the possibility just occurred to him that Martin might find that a deal-breaker. “We’re just trying to build something to fall back on. Good tattoo shops aren’t cheap to apprentice at.”

“I can imagine.” Martin’s secret itches at him again. With his mother gone, there’s really no one to spend the money on, and he’s definitely not used to spending it on himself after living frugally his whole life. It doesn’t feel right to offer it, though, not when the three of them are only starting to get to know each other in the context of a relationship.

Martin has made mistakes before, in his search for meaningful connections; it’s taken years of therapy and some good friends to help him realize he’s much more than what he can do for the other person, and this is not an exception. He’s fairly sure Jon and Gerry would refuse him anyways, and that’s- that matters. A lot.

Jon shakes his head. “He’s working himself sick. I keep telling him it’s not healthy, but I know I’m hardly one to speak. As he’s _very_ keen on reminding me.”

“You really aren’t,” Martin says, then smiles at Jon’s betrayed look. “But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong. He’s hardly doing himself any favors.”

“You should try to tell him, maybe he’ll listen to _you_.” Jon’s voice is sullen now, and he presses tighter against Martin’s side.

The way these two interact is… interesting, Martin has learned in the past two months since meeting them, and even more in the last few weeks, since they decided to give this a try. Jon and Gerry know each other so well that they often seem to forget they’re separate people. Martin has seen some misunderstandings get swept under the metaphorical rug already, whenever one seems to think the other can read their thoughts. Definitely not a part of the relationship Martin is eager to deal with.

“Sorry. I didn’t- should’ve thought that might get awkward,” Jon mumbles when they finally reach the bus stop.

“Hm?” Martin asks, broken out of his reverie by the discomfort in Jon’s tone. “I don’t think it did.”

“I just- we’re not perfect.” Jon says in the pained voice of a confession. “I know I’m basically sabotaging us, but I don’t- I think it’s only fair that you know.”

“Hm. I didn’t expect you to be.” Martin shrugs. “I’m not, either.”

"I- that's good. We still… we'd like to have you." Jon looks up at him, and the light of the street lamps dancing in the rain is almost hypnotic on his dark skin.

"Yes, you- you said so." Martin nods, fidgeting uselessly with the umbrella now that they're covered by the bus stop's plexiglass roof. "I really… thank you."

Jon is leaning towards him, almost _into_ him, and Martin is not so blind as to not know how to read the mood. But this- they haven't talked about this yet, about who gets to touch who, and how. 

"Is this okay?" Martin asks, because Jon's mouth is calling to him like a magnet, so powerfully Martin is already bending down.

"Very," Jon says, his voice a whisper so low it blends almost seamlessly with the rain. Martin leans down slowly enough that Jon could move away if he wanted to. 

He doesn't

Jon's lips are cold, but they warm up quickly enough under Martin's. He tastes like the tea Martin brewed for him at the break room, and -Martin's heart skips a beat- he bites softly at Martin's bottom lip when they separate. 

Somewhere nearby, a door slides open and two sets of wheels squeak to a stop on the wet pavement.

"There goes my bus again," Jon mutters against his mouth, and Martin laughs.

"You could still get on."

"Mmm… no. It's gone. I'll have to catch the next one." Jon traps Martin's bottom lip between his own again, smiling. "Or the next."

Martin is pretty sure he drops the umbrella at some point, but there are few things he could care less about.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

Martin considers himself to be a pretty efficient man, but juggling is _definitely_ not one of his talents, he decides as he tries to balance a cardboard tray with three drinks, his briefcase, a bag of takeout and the keys to Jon and Gerry's building.

He makes one last effort to open the door, and sees one of the drinks tilt back almost in slow motion when he overbalances to try and compensate for the weight of the door… and then a large hand with eyes tattooed at every knuckle catches the paper cup and straightens it up, before taking the tray from him as he sighs in relief.

"My hero, just in the nick of time." Martin smiles, turning to face Gerry. The other man is, as usual, just a _little_ too close for comfort, almost crowded against Martin's back. "Thank you."

"My pleasure. Are these for us? Gerry asks, his tone perfectly friendly even as he steps even closer to him, holding the door open with his free hand and effectively caging Martin in.

"I- yes. I did text you that I was coming over for supper, didn't I?" Martin asks, suddenly worried. He's pretty sure Gerry even replied to his message with a few emojis, but now the man is looking up at him with a furrowed brow.

"You did." 

The mood is getting… weird, Martin decides, and he crosses the threshold into the building to escape it.

It's- he doesn't know where he stands with Gerry, even two months into this relationship. He knows _he_ finds the man attractive and lovely to talk to, sweet, funny and _definitely_ flirty whenever they text or call, which they do a lot even when Jon loses his phone or forgets he put it on mute for days at a time. Things are different in person; the behavior is so subtle it took Martin a few visits before he noticed, but now he can't stop seeing it. 

Gerry's always up in his face, for some reason. Bumping his shoulder with Martin, crowding him towards walls, the works. The irritation in the man's face right now is one Martin has seen a lot of times before, when the -Martin hesitates to call it that, but he can't for the life of him think of a better term- _posturing_ doesn't get the reaction he wanted out of Martin, whatever that reaction might be.

He's given it a lot of thought, even going so far as to ask Jon if Gerry might not have felt pressured into their arrangement by the two of them. Jon had frowned and asked for a reason, but when Martin explained the odd behavior, he merely chuckled, and said Martin would have to ask Gerry directly.

"I hope you like Thai, this is from my favorite place," Martin says as they climb the stairs to the flat.

"The one with the mural?" Gerry asks, resting a hand on the small of Martin's back.

"Hey, you remembered!" Martin smiles. It's been nearly three months since he sent Gerry the picture of the beautifully detailed floor to ceiling piece, after finding out about the man's artistic inclinations.

"Wouldn't be much of a boyfriend if I couldn't remember your favorite restaurant, would I?" Gerry gives Martin a smug smile, as he almost comes to rest his chin on Martin's shoulder.

"Eh, I'd forgive you the transgression. It's a pretty small place, nothing remarkable."

"If you like it, it's important."

Martin doesn't really mind the invasion of his personal bubble; he _likes_ Gerry, enjoys having him close enough to see the speckled blue-green of his eyes, even when the man practically corrals Martin against the wall by the bend of the stairs

"Gerry?" Martin asks when the silence stretches for a few beats too long. "What are you doing?" if it's an attempt at intimidation, it's sorely lacking in bite.

Gerry's face falls again, frustration boiling to the surface momentarily. "I just- this usually works with Jon," he mumbles, "you're just- you're too tall."

Something clicks in Martin's mind then; Jon's amused laugh along with his certainty that Gerry isn't trying to chase Martin out of the relationship, and Martin is suddenly remembering every occasion he's seen the two of them interact. 

Every time Gerry leans over Jon before kissing him, how he drapes over Jon's form instead of merely hugging him; the way he casually rests a forearm above Jon's head if Jon's leaning on a wall, almost looming over him.

Martin snorts. "Is this- are you flirting?"

Gerry makes a face like he just bit into a lemon, and Martin laughs in both relief and amusement as the realization clicks. Gerry's a big man, both tall and buff; of course he's used to towering over people, especially Jon, who certainly seems to like it. It's a bit less effective with Martin, who's at least a full head taller than him.

"Well, you don't have to _laugh_ about it." The man crosses his arms before his chest, his whole posture deflating in the face of his somewhat failed attempt at tall, dark and handsome. 

Martin shakes his head. "No, no I shouldn't- sorry." He takes a few moments to stifle his laughter, but he can't for the life of him extinguish the smile that's taken over his face at the epiphany. "It's just- I thought you were _angry_ at me!"

"I- what? Why would I be angry at you?" Gerry arches an eyebrow. 

"I don't know." Martin grins. "It all felt very _macho,_ pushing me against walls and stuff."

"I was just trying to get you to kiss me." Gerry's now we'll and truly pouting, and Martin feels like his chest will burst with fondness.

"And this works on Jon?"

"Like a charm. Haven't you tried it yet?"

"What, the 'bad boy from high school' act?" Martin thinks he might just _have_ to kiss Gerry, who has begun to blush in addition to the frustrated pout. It's just… cute.

"Forget it. Let's just go up-" Gerry turns to continue the climb, but Martin uses his free hand to grab at his wrist. "What?"

Martin carefully walks back down the last two steps, looking up at Gerry and still grinning like a fool. "Is this better?"

Gerry's cheeks redden, his pale skin _very_ ill suited to hiding his flush. "I'm- yes. I can work with this."

"Well," Martin arches an eyebrow. He's having way too much fun with this, now that the misunderstanding has been cleared. "Get to it, then."

"Huh. I _do_ have a thing for bossy people." Gerry rolls his eyes, but he's smiling as he leans down to place the drinks on the floor, before he rests his forearms on Martin's shoulders, crossing his wrists behind his head and bringing their foreheads together. "Can I?"

Martin responds by pushing up into Gerry's lips, enjoying the surprised flinch before one of the hands behind his head buries itself in his hair. Gerry's kiss is thrilling both in its novelty and intensity, it almost feels as though the man is trying to memorize his mouth by how it slots against his, and there's something to be said for feeling like he's kissing someone taller for once. Perhaps it's not Martin's favorite cup of tea, but variety's the spice of life, isn't it?

They're both a bit breathless when they part. Martin smiles before climbing up to Gerry's level again and taking a few steps into _his_ personal space.

"So. Is this what you were trying to do?" Martin asks almost too casually. The way the man's flush deepens when he has to look up to Martin again is _delightful_.

"I- yes. Precisely," he says, his voice just the slightest bit strained.

"Hm. Yes, I can see the appeal." Martin brushes a lock of Gerry's hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear before diving in again.

It's only after a few more rounds that Martin catches movement out the corner of his eye, and he turns to find Jon leaning comfortably on the handrail of the stairs, looking down on them with a smug smile. 

"Glad to see you two worked that out," he says, clearly amused by the whole thing. 

"I didn't know you were a voyeur." Gerry sticks his tongue out at him. "Did you pick the movie already?"

"I found better things to watch."

Martin laughs, and bends to pick up the forgotten drinks, before resuming the journey to these two ridiculous, perfect men.


End file.
